


Sulfur Nebula

by SovereignRaz



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alien Biology, Egg Laying, Farting, Gen, Post-Egg Laying, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Whump, trans porn by trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SovereignRaz/pseuds/SovereignRaz
Summary: Every year, Sephiroth enters a cycle where he will develop and lay sterile alien eggs. Having to carry so many eggs comes with embarrassing side effects.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Sulfur Nebula

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to aliensaresupergay and themidgardiansongstress for headcanons and grammatical help!

As Sephiroth bends over to pick up his freshly laid eggs, something backfires. The sound is so sudden he jerks a shoulder as a sputtering heat escapes him. He attempts to balance himself throughout the release, the shock at his glutes and persistent burnout of his womb makes him ready to fall on his ass at any minute, but not while this is going on. No way. This is embarrassing enough already.  
Through the detonation of gas, he stares blankly at the glossy egg pile on the soft floor. The smell of his secretions that awaited the laying already disturbed him enough. Heavy, heavy lactic acid combined with the uncannily clean smell of most hospitals. He never liked the smell of his genitals. It was so strong compared to the rest of him. When his extraterrestrial cycle comes in--which happens every one or two years, it just follows him wherever he goes. All the dense pent-up gas he gets from carrying the eggs and the impulse to eat more just adds a whole nother smelly layer of self-consciousness.  
The flatus grows puffier, steamier betwixt his full, taut cheeks--as he tries to keep them. It's almost over, if the smell were easier to mask around these times, that is. Less fumes escape his sphincter as they settle around the hot and mortifying atmosphere in the room. The stench begins to fill Sephiroth's nose and brain. He crouches and furrows his brow at the noxious odor. Long, shaking fingers cover his face out of instinct, the tips of them rubbing into his weighted, teary eyes. It's like if he were to leave all the eggs he just laid out in the sun to rot. Their presence and the pressure having been put on his pussy and ass throughout his cycle has turned his bedroom into a swamp. His gas was so ripe it almost felt salty in his nostrils and the roof of his drying mouth. Everything. Reeks.  
He pulls his right parted bang and then some to his nose and starts to breathe again. Despite everything, Shin-Ra let him smell like roses today, a comforting smell that reminded him of peace and love. He tries to envision a garden with the smell of his hair, that through each thorn there will be a brilliant, forgiving red petal at the top to tickle and appease his face and mind. He needs it right now. He needs it so much right now.  
Maybe he could even make it out of here with his eggs before the smell starts to seep into his silky hair.


End file.
